The Tale of two brothers called Dragon and Wasp
by Hivir
Summary: The two brothers live peaceful life in their home village Ealdor, until something drastic happens... And it brings them to Hogwarts. My first fanfiction, actually. I don't own anything that has anything to do with Merlin (BBC), Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC series) or Harry Potter (J.K Rowling).
1. The Thrust

"The shattered one will once again come back to life. O behold! The green lights will shine upon the scorching ruins and shrinking rivers - finally at the end of all things, there will no longer be place called Ealdor."

Sherlock's voice broke at the last word and the gold melted slowly away from his eyes, regaining their normal silvery hue. He trembled slightly as if he was waking up from a mere dream. First thing he understood was the restful fondling on his curls and he looked up to see if it was his brother. He indeed met his older brother's juniper berry colored eyes, which were now holding a strange look - _anxiety_, Sherlock recognized after a bit thinking, but he wasn't able to see any logical reason for that kind of gaze. The people around them were staring at him with the same look and some of them even had covered their mouths with their hands - _astonished_, he thought and he even noticed some people who seemed utterly _puzzled_. He was beginning to sense a starting explosion inside his head.

"What in heaven's name happened", he managed to growl after he had forcefully pushed the tickling outburst down his throat. The others had already excused themselves and left the two brothers alone. Merlin tensed a bit, but continued to stroke the wavy locks as if the life itself depended on their serenity. It kind of did, though, as Sherlock's jittery magic was starting to ripple the air around them and make the flowers turn their petals in. The big brother frowned slightly when he saw the dewdrops that were magically forming onto the grass around them, but cleared his throat before answering the younger one's question.

"I... I believe that it was a vision, my brother. It seems that you have possessed the power of seeing. To future, I mean... Gift of reading the tomorrow from ulterior source."

"Ah... Not good?" Sherlock winced as he heard himself, asking something like that with such a small voice... He was stronger than that! Luckily his brother didn't say anything out loud. No, instead he stood up and smiled. It was nothing new that his big brother was always so annoyingly nice to everyone... That useless string of thought was cut as their mother (poor Hunith, the other villagers whispered) rushed to them, worried as always.

As they were silently wandering back to their home, the worried mother couldn't do much more than sigh resignedly. Her boys tended to get in all sorts of incidents, but this was a first sign of Sherlock's true powers - she had expected something like this... Her son had the eyes of a buzzard, curiosity of a stoat and acrimony of a wasp - that he was a seer, was not a great shock.

There was no telling if she and her oldest son were able to keep the curly-haired boy on the path of justice, as he had some alarming tendencies to "mend" the rules if he thought it was needed and an unfailing ability to ruffle people with his endless deductions... But he was a good boy who couldn't control his magic - the training hadn't started bearing any fruit yet - and besides, he would go to the edge of the world if his mother would've asked him to. Several "what if"s and "but"s were still hovering in their cottage when the moonlight swam behind her eyelids. It wasn't until the rooster outside cried his first cock-a-doodle-doo, she had come up with a solution.

She threw her blanket off and dashed with three leaps next to a window and wrote a pleading letter. A bedraggled owl flew in the sky and as she opened the window, the bird landed with a low hoot and grabbed the folded paper from her outstretched hand. It had many months worth of flying through the air above the secret moors of their land, but she put all her hope to that letter. Soon the bird was just a gray dot at the sky, disappearing behind the forests as it headed towards Scottish lowlands.

* * *

There was a disheveled eagle owl knocking on his window with an unwavering rhythm. Somehow, perhaps years worth of experience, the headmaster knew that the source of the annoying noise wouldn't just get bored and fly away. Owls these days... Chuckling to himself the old man rose from his chair and opened the stained glass window. After a bit of persuading the stubborn bird agreed to fly elsewhere, but the old man stood there for a while, just breathing the gentle whiffs of May air and reading the letter he had received.

When he finally decided to close the window again (mainly because his neck started to feel the draft too well), he was so deeply in thought that he almost didn't notice his colleague entering the door.

"Ah, Minerva", he acknowledged the sharp-looking woman in front of him, "I have received a very interesting note that was sent to me by our former student. I am sure you remember the woman in question - Hunith Abrahamson, who later married the druid man... what was his name... Balinor."

Minerva McGonagall, a professor of this great seat of learning, stood there slightly stunned because of the headmaster's sudden uncertainty, but she got herself put together almost immediately.

"I indeed do remember her", she agreed, "she was in Hufflepuff, wasn't she? Excellent marks in Herbology and Defense Against Dark Arts, if I recall right. I wonder what has made you look so pensive, Albus."

The headmaster unfolded the letter once again. He wasn't going to read it aloud, but decided to tell roughly what it said in it. He cleared his throat and began to tell.

"She has two sons, Merlin and Sherlock... Yes, Minerva, the boy's name is Merlin. Not in any means exotic with descendant of the Druids, mind you. However, he is now sixteen and his little brother is fifteen. The problem is that the both of them are more powerful than their magic tutor, Edwin Muirden, can manage. The older one has apparently inherited his father's ability to control the dragons... I can imagine it has caused some difficulties", he commented drily. "The younger one though... He has been proven to be a seer."

"Proven?" the woman grasped his word choice, "He has seen and told a prediction, then?" She was feeling a tad concerned, not really knowing why, but the odd sense of warning was pulsing through her. Headmaster Dumbledore gave her the letter and pointed the booked up prophesy, as told by fifteen-year-old Sherlock, son of Balinor.

""The shattered one will once again come back to life. O behold! The green lights will shine upon the scorching ruins and shrinking rivers - finally at the end of all things, there will no longer be place called Ealdor", she read and with every word she felt her poor heart beating faster. "It... it is about... About You-Know-Who", she whispered after a while. The man next to her nodded sincerely. "Yes. We are now dealing with dangerous things here, Minerva. We must take Hunith's sons under our protection before the Lord Voldemort takes interest in them and their already great powers. I don't think anyone knows the true extent of the boys' budding magic."

The woman in bottle green robes winced at the usage of the dark wizard's name, but agreed with headmasters reasoning. "What should we do, Albus?" she asked feeling a pinch of universal exhaustion in her bones.

"Write back and wait for her response, I suppose. After that we can think for the greater plans."


	2. The Wand-exploding experience

Albus Dumbledore was truly shaken at the end of the school year - Hogwarts had hosted the first Triwizard Tournament for a long time, but it would take decades to have a next one, considering that one of the Champion's had died... The headmaster sighed. As if a death of a student wouldn't be terrifying enough, it was all clear now - the dark lord had raised and the Minister of Magic unyieldingly refused to admit and affirm it...

He glanced once again Sherlock's prophesy, and if there had ever been any doubt about its' validity... Well, the first part of the prophesy had already happened, "The shattered one will once again come back to life", and there wasn't any doubts that the second part wouldn't happen as well. "The green lights will shine upon the scorching ruins and shrinking rivers", green lights naturally meant the Killing Curse or the Dark Mark, but where is this place in question... The third part of the prophesy just pointed out the fate of the boy's own home village.

He stroked the outline of the parchment in his hands. After re-reading it so many times he had caused a slight embrittlement of the letter. The ink Hunith had used was homemade, so it was fading from some spots... maybe he should rewrite the prophesy somewhere, it shouldn't disappear... Not just to see if it was valid, but if the young boy wanted to teach Divination in future. He would need some proofs about the rate of his inner eye.

Where could he keep the two brothers? Well, surely their mother would let them to attend Hogwarts, bearing the safety of her sons in her mind, but what about the upcoming summer - there was no time to waste, he had to make it to Ealdor before Tom Riddle did. A sixteen year old who was capable to lure the dragons to do whatever he asked them to... And then there was the issue of young Sherlock, who could see trough the time. If Riddle became aware of the opportunity... No, thinking about the "what if"s wasn't wise. When the old man stopped dithering the things he should not over-think, he spotted a plan taking shape in corner of his complex brain.

* * *

When the headmaster finally met the two brothers in person, they all spoke a good time. Hunith glanced at the old man with grateful look in her eyes after she had ushered her sons to get ready. She was a bit hesitant at first, letting them to go so far from home... She knew that with Dumbledore, both of her beloved ones would do just fine.

"I told them to think it as an adventure", she said briefly as Dumbledore faced her before following the boys to their shared room. He smiled. Dumbledore watched them packing their belongings in two satchels and he used this opportunity to observe their magic; Merlin's magic hummed very loudly in the whole room and it had an earthy feel in it, but Sherlock's magic was something like electric shocks, rapid and sharp pinches in the air. He didn't have time to familiarize himself with the thing, as the brothers were quite fast with their moves. The older one even so that it was borderline bungling, but he couldn't blame them for their enthusiastic attitude. After the boys had said goodbyes to their mother, the headmaster noticed that the brothers left their home barefoot. Surely they would have time to put them on, the man assured. He was soon to learn that they didn't even have shoes to wear.

"Not that we really want to", Merlin shrugged, "we like to feel the connection to Earth."

"Speak for youself", the younger boy hissed, "you can't really claim to enjoy November's ice-cold mud between your toes."

The headmaster chuckled and promised to purchase two pair of shoes, and they could just decide themselves whether to use them or not. He couldn't but notice the eager look that passed in their eyes. The headmaster felt very old when he realized that the boys didn't have wands either - of course, how could he forget? Their father was a druid.

There was a slight but; the magic they had in their veins, was a strange hybrid of modern magic and the ways of Old Religion. There was no guarantee that the modern wands would withstand a minute in their hands. How else to get clarity on the matter, than to shove magic wands in their hands and hope for the best?

In half an hour Merlin had accidentally exploded three wands and got his brother's hair burst into flames, but finally he received a wand that didn't kick back so aggressively. Actually Mr. Ollivanders had picked it from the back room, where he kept the experimental wands he originally had rejected.

"English oak and cypress, 11", rigid, double dragon heartstring." the wand-maker said as Merlin jiggled the beautiful thing in his hand. Two light-colored woods swirled around each others and made a subtle knot in the wand's very tip. Then Merlin noticed that the handle was embedded with two tiny rocks. He raised his questioning gaze and Mr. Ollivanders smiled slightly.

"Geodes, my boy", the wand-maker jumped into explanation, "have been told to contain a huge amount of energy to help the wand-owner to... how to put the words... lock the magic of their enemy."

Nodding, Merlin stepped aside and nudged his little brother who was hiding in the corner rather shyly. It was the first time in Sherlock's life when he saw so many things at one eye-scanning. He was having a budding headache and it made him a tad grumpy, but on the other hand, he was extremely curious what his wand would be like. Ollivanders went directly to the back room (he didn't want any more wands exploded, thank you very much) and came back with ten boxes. Sherlock became a little suspicious, when he saw the fake smile at his future headmaster's face. He knew that everyone around him were wondering about him... ("The Balinor's Sherlock, do you think he will be in path of light? Or will he..?" was one of the opening speeches in his neighborhood when the newsmonger were gossiping). He held the wands as if they were going to jump from his hands and throttle him, but suddenly he felt the wand in his hand vibrated with joyful jolts, if one could say that wands feel joy. Ollivanders hazy eyes cleared for a second.

"Sycamore, 10", rigid, centaur tail hair."

Merlin gave the golden galleons into the hands of that peculiar old man and threw his knapsack on his shoulder, his new wand safely inside the secret pocket in his robes. When he was ready to Apparate to their shelter, his new pair of shoes swung in his hands and three thick books he had bought from Flourish and Blotts were tightly tucked in Sherlock's embrace. He suppressed a snigger; leave it to Sherlock to drown himself in books!

When their father was still alive, he had always read out books about dragons to entertain Merlin and books about poisonous plants to entertain Sherlock. In many cases, the brothers fell asleep at the dining table, huddled side by side together, and their father just kept reading and reading without noticing the lack of audience. Nowadays, Merlin did not bother to open other books than his Spellbook, but Sherlock... it was as if he _breathed _the books, well, according to him breathing was boring, but anyhow, the clear facts and statistics, pure and immutable information made the boy absolutely glow with enthusiasm.

Before they really had time to catch on they were standing in the entrance hall of 12, Grimmauld Place which was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.


	3. The Eyes

_A/N: Yay my story has its third chapter! And the first A/N ever. Sorry about that, but I thought that it looked better if there wasn't one :D So you have noticed this weird AU thing - based on my even weirder dream, btw - and hopefully my baddish knowledge of English language won't ruin it... Anyway, I'm open to any ideas (what should happen next? What adventures the two brothers will face in Hogwarts? etc.) Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize (and probably the ones you don't recognize)_

* * *

Merlin sighed and looked at his sleeping brother, who snored silently. It had taken almost forever to coax him into bed, but when the stubborn boy had finally thrown himself into bed, although a little grumpy, he had fallen asleep almost right away. These beds were just so much more comfortable than those back in Ealdor...

The morning was well under way towards noon and no one had entered their room to shoo them for breakfast, at least not yet. Something unusual was going on, Merlin had time to think before someone started shouting bloody murder in the neighboring room. The sudden sound gave Merlin so incredibly lurid fright, that he fell on top of his shell-shocked brother... Sherlock's fist may have cuffed Merlin's cheek and Merlin's foot may have kicked Sherlock's Achilles tendon, but when they stopped the squirming and kicking, they were on the floor and had ended up in a complex node with Sherlock's blanket and sheet.

"What was that about?", asked the still sleepy boy, rubbing his now aching ankle. Merlin produced an embarrassed smile and let a troubled giggle.

"Someone just started shouting in room next to us. I boggled."

It took some while to unwrap themselves and when they managed to break free from their cotton-y prison, the shouting had ended. Then, without any warning, the door opened and the Weasley twins bursted in, followed by their bother, sister and several other teens. Merlin had of course seen them, except for the fierce-looking boy with green eyes, but they had not spoken more than the little small talks, which were necessary while having breakfasts and dinners around the same table. Sherlock refused to leave the room at all (with the exception of going to loo) and Merlin seriously doubted the other kids really even remembered his brother's name. Anyway, this kind of intimate behavior, entering doors without knocking was quite uncivil.

"May I ask what might be the reason for this sudden intrusion", he asked rather coldly. The red-haired twins looked a little involuntary, but sat in synchronized move on the edge of Merlin's bed.

"We were just prevented from being useful", Fred started, referring to their recent incident with the Extendable Ears, "Instead, we all were told to meet you two properly and get to know you a bit."

Herd of wizards and the two witches had just walked in and shut the door behind them as if this was their room, not Merlin and Sherlock's. Technically though, they might have been in a house that probably was owned by their parents... However, he swallowed his objections and nodded.

"In that case then... My name is Merlin Abrahamson, son of Balinor and he's my little brother Sherlock, son of Balinor."

"Is that really your name? Merlin, I mean", said the young red-headed girl, sounding a bit skeptical. Merlin rolled his eyes. This always happened when he met his mother's relatives and he guessed he just should get used to it now.

"Yes! And what might your name be then?"

"Oh, don't mind her, she's our little sister. Her name is Ginny and our lil' brother there is Ron", the twins said. Merlin nodded stiffly and then he turned his gaze back to the three standing ones. That one was Ron, then. The brunette girl next between the two boys just kept switching weight from one foot to another and remained silent. Merlin cleared his throat, coaxing her to speak.

"I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger. Hi", she said rather awkwardly and sat next to George. They watched Sherlock who casually laid in his bed, wrapped in sheet and staring at the ceiling. They must have thought that Sherlock was rude... Merlin was the only one who sensed his brother's magic that gave tiny hums through the air, which sadly was the only sign that he was even listening (at least partially). Finally Merlin could sit down next to his brother, just after this last introduction.

"I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you." The boy's voice held an odd measure in it, as if he was waiting Merlin to react in a some specific way, but Merlin shrugged it away. He was actually the only one who had offered to shake hands with Merlin.

"Merlin Abrahamson, son of Balinor, Merlin said, now in a better mood. It all changed when he turned to see Sherlock again. His brother was standing up, a forlorn look crossing his face. That wasn't the alarming part, but seeing his eyes becoming golden again... It was.

Merlin rushed to his side and took his brother's shaking head between his hands. He tried to wake Sherlock from his trance, but couldn't do anything - he wouldn't admit it afterwards but he had cried a little because of the helplessness he felt at that moment - and the other young wizards had jumped up and were now shouting in the corridors for help. Soon there was an awful number of people trying to wake the boy up, but his golden eyes were sightless for the current.

* * *

Outside the room was a small gathering of shocked teenagers. Harry felt pretty shaken, but saw that his friends shared his feelings. He shuddered when he did think back at the moment when Sherlock's eyes had turned golden and his body, for the lack of better word, petrify itself. They didn't know the two brothers well, but seeing something like that happen to a person so young...

"What d'you reckon just happened", was Ron's silent question and Hermione gave a small sigh. Despite the bad-tempered row the two friends were now jumping into, Harry just knew that they would study this later. It was one of those library things again, if the adults wouldn't tell them anything about this later.

Finally the door opened, but it wasn't any of the adults helping the boy suffering from the strange seizure-like condition, but the boy himself. His eyes were still golden and he took the steps with huge effort, dragging himself towards Harry. Cobwebs were twisting in corners and a sharp buzzing sound was echoing around them. Ron and Hermione rushed to protect their friend of course, but the shuffling boy didn't do anything, just watched them with those unnatural eyes.

Then, suddenly he opened his mouth and spoke.

"Hark! The forgotten ideas are walking in the darkness and the pink hazard will swirl like an everlasting tornado through the one and only sanctuary in this country. Do our gods hear at all, how we cry out in pain? The quiet room will be listening, but who will save the living?"

With the last word the boy's limbs went totally limp and he crashed to floor. Harry saw a strange pile of pearly smoke forming above the now horizontally lying boy, and just when Ron was about to touch the smoke with his finger, it condensed into a ball and disappeared. Someone gasped in the middle of the steps and a fussing woman trotted next to them.

"Are you alright", she asked Sherlock, who was now slowly waking up from his open-eyed sleep, the gold backing away from his irises. The boy didn't have any chance to answer, as the door, the same he had magically locked, opened with an explosion and a pretty miffed Mad-Eye Moody grumbled at the confused boy.

"Just what were you playing at, boy", the man growled while several wands were pointing towards the shivering boy in Molly Weasley's arms. Remus Lupin stepped in front of the fuming man, knowing that at worst, the situation could escalate to accusing the boy of using dark magic... Which he clearly didn't. Even the youngest users of dark magic just didn't work like that; knock out eight adults and lock the door instinctively just to faint in peace.

"Why not let the youngsters tell us what happened, perhaps while we are eating", Remus suggested, "and we are all calm again." There was, he thought, something more plausible explanation than the one Moody was evolving in his paranoid mind. Luckily, after a little pondering, the Auror lowered his wand and the other Order members followed his example.

They turned their gazes away as the two brothers were clinging to each other like the Sun wouldn't rise for tomorrow.


	4. The What! and the Slytherins

A/N: Yay, the new one! I hope this isn't too exotic :D Or short.

* * *

Too soon came the September 1st; it literally felt like the time had fled from them. The morning wasn't as well-organized as such mornings were in Ealdor. For example, when the Druid kids were sent with their mentors to study the old art of earth magic to an another part of the forest, it was all very easygoing. But, going to Hogwarts meant one year away from home and in Ealdor 'leaving home for school' meant a week at most.

It was actually quite frightening, after the ruckus at 12 Grimmauld Place, wrestle their way to the Hogwarts Express and then fight for empty compartment - Merlin was exceptionally pleased when he sat down next to his brother. The train huffed when Harry closed the compartment door and Sherlock paled a little. It was his first time using train; he always refused to leave Ealdor, when their mother wanted to visit her relatives.

Ealdor was so outlying village, that going away meant they should have walked at least eighteen miles before getting to the train station in the outskirts of the tiny magical town called Essetir. Taking the train for 400 miles to see the old great-great-aunts and whatever they were... Waste of time, really. Merlin always accompanied their mother, purely out of courtesy, and Sherlock of course was the one who heard his complains afterwards... Ugh.

Merlin didn't enjoy being in the train too much, but he was still doing better than his gray-faced brother ("Maybe I should buy a bottle of water for Sherly"), and he was mercifully distracted from thinking the wobbling train as he spoke with Neville. The boy was quite a database, at least in the case of magical plants... Actually he seemed to be a bit of a duffer in the other aspects of life, really, but it didn't matter.

Everyone was good at something and poor at something. Like Merlin himself, he was good at speaking with dragons, but he was terribly clumsy and awfully bad at lying to people. His brother could magnetize all the bees around him and see things that others didn't, and at the same time he was completely unaware of things like feelings and propriety.

* * *

The new Hogwarts prefects, Ron and Hermione, were on their way back to their friends, when they heard the voices of a heated discussion.

"And the infamous Holmes brothers ", they heard Malfoy laugh with mocking tone in his voice. The blond boy turned his face to Harry.

"Your little half human friends - oh! So they didn't mention...", he interrupted his little talk and decided to withdraw to the corridor, seeing the two blue-eyed brothers getting a bit too furious - honestly, he didn't want end up dead, his purpose was merely to ruffle their feathers. Predatory fake smile rose to Sherlock's lips and he hissed at the closing door. Neville, who sat next to him, swore he saw a glint of gold in his eyes.

Ron and Hermione entered the door and saw Merlin look like he was in pain. The pain wasn't physical, it seemed.

"I'm sorry to ask", Harry asked slightly reserved, "I mean, the bit about you being half..." He didn't have time to finish the sentence, as Merlin's magic did something - _something_ - and every piece of glass in their compartment exploded to pieces.

"YES", the boy shouted with pure wrath in every inch of his shaking form, "but both of our parents had a human body! Shouldn't that pass us as human and rule out the fact that our father was a Druid?"

The silence was ringing in their ears for ages. Luna raised her gaze from the upside down Quibbler.

"It's unfair, the Ministry of Magic defining the Druids as Beings and not as humans. They base it on the fact that despite being magical, the Druid magic is too much different from ours..." she said, trailing away towards the end. She returned to her magazine and Merlin slumped back to his seat.

"We are not just different... we are a possible _danger _in their eyes", he whispered to them, sounding crestfallen. Harry cringed and joined Neville's attempt to console the sobbing boy, but he didn't stop the weeping until Sherlock curled to his side.

"Stop crying," he demanded, "I'm telling you, we could send a dragon after the idiot." Merlin laughed at that through his tears.

"Tempting as it is, it wouldn't make our mother very proud if we'd kill someone before we even make it to Hogwarts," he said, forgetting their company. Sherlock flashed his endearing-and-not-so-secretly-sly smile and eyes full of glee he purred; "Just a teeny tiny dragon hatchling, but big enough to burn Malfoy's icky sticky hair off."

Harry felt his head swimming - the talk about controlling dragons was so absurd, but at the same time Sherlock certainly was speaking about it in all earnestness. And using dragon as a weapon, wasn't that a bit excessive? Malfoy was a git, for sure, but... It was like Sherlock was acting more and more Slytherin over time. Harry wasn't sure whether it was caused by the bitterness and grief or if he really was like this all the time. His brother however was more tricky one, perhaps a Slytherin too, or maybe a Ravenclaw... Actually, qualifying students wasn't his but the Sorting Hat's task, Harry though and mentally kicked himself.


	5. The Bee

**A/N: Hi, here's a new chapter for you! Please forgive me my messing with HP canon time line, it's been such a long time since I've had a proper Harry Potter book in my hands. But this is, after all, about Merl's and Sherly's ultimate brotherhood and the Hogwarts is just extra ;-)**

* * *

'It's the first months in school that are supposed be the worst', Merlin thought to himself as he straightened Sherlock's tie, 'yet it all becomes worse and worse every day'. He licked his thumb to fade a splatter of dirt away from Sherlock's face, but the boy dodged quickly to avoid his finger.

"Merlin, how many times I have to tell you", the younger boy growled, "that I don't want you to rub your saliva to my face? It's disgusting!"

Some students around suppressed their snickers but most of them didn't. Merlin blushed. They weren't home anymore, but... He couldn't let Sherlock weave his way in the corridors so elegantly and then suddenly notice that his face is covered with grass-stains and muck. Really, he couldn't. He licked his thumb again and this time he did rub the stains _off _Sherlock's face, albeit a little violently. ('Sherly's fault, that one. He should know when to stop the squirming', Merlin pondered silently.)

Their fellow students were ogling them, not very imperceptibly or discreetly. They even got nasty looks from some students because of their Slytherin ties, or perhaps it was because they both were barefoot - Sherlock conjured loudly and scuttled next to his brother. He didn't have the mood to eat anything, but where would he go anyway?

"Filthy half-breeds", they heard Draco Malfoy sneer at them. The comment sent Sherlock to the edge of a fit of rage, but luckily Merlin was able to calm his brother (who was now hiding under the seats, apparently). The woman in pink noticed and she started to count the possibilities...

These two brothers looked like they were humans, but so did the werewolves... The boy had looked like his bite could be poisonous, after all. Madam Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge had heard whispers of same sort while she had sat near the Slytherin table earlier - Dumbledore wouldn't allow Beings attend the School, would he? She made a mental note to investigate whether Hogwarts really was as harmless as the Minister of Magic hoped. If Dumbledore had _creatures_ on his side, it could be the very end of Cornelius Fudge.

* * *

Merlin took his brother's hand and almost dragged him out of the Great Hall. They needed to forget every hateful slur they had heard during their miserable morning.

Their place... They had explored the school with emerging concentration, because they both wanted to avoid homesickness with the aid of distraction. They asked for small treat but instead they found a strange, strange room just a week after their Sorting. It turned out to be a real miracle; when they opened the magical door for the first time, they entered a vibrant green forest full of druidic shrines.

Next times they even saw few unicorns and other magical and non-magical animals. During their first few visits they had soon came up with a routine; when they didn't have lessons, they went to that room. Merlin often sat on a soft tuft of grass and the snake in his hands would sing them the old songs they used to hear at home.

Sherlock would play his violin for hours and at some point he'd raise to collect the magical herbs around them with lazy pace. It was soothing, to feel the grass and leaves under their feet, hear the wind howl in the sacred woods and see the nightingales flit above the shadowy hills.

They pushed away from their minds that everything they saw, was magically formed; illusion of sorts, a factitious forest - no, they wanted to pet the animals that surrounded them and roll down the hills like they did at home.

* * *

This day wasn't any exception, and when they opened the door, both of them felt a calming breeze of wind brush their hair, as welcoming as ever. Sherlock called for the bees and soon they were hugged by thousands of buzzing honeybees - as welcoming as ever. Merlin called for the singing snake and it came, hissing gently - as welcoming as ever. They adapted back to their routine and after two hours they had given up the English language to float in their own wordless world.

Suddenly the ground began to shake and edges started to form, unveiling the limits of the room; the sky that seemed to end miles above them faded turned into a ceiling, the grass under them melted away to reveal a stone floor. Nightingales panicked before disappearing mid-flight and finally, the only thing around them was a plain room, few bees and a snake.

The door opened and four Gryffindor students walked in. Merlin wasn't surprised anymore that it was always the Gryffindors who interrupted their personal moments or invaded their only safe havens. First at 12 Grimmauld Place, now at Hogwarts. Why was it always the Gryffindors?

However, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, the ones to penetrate their sanctuary, were completely astounded. They gaped at them and after a good ten seconds Ronald Weasley was the first to open his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was almost angry, betrayed. 'Interesting', Merlin saw from Sherlock's eyes.

"That's kind of private, you know? To calm your mind, just business between two brothers", the curly-haired boy reported while fighting and urge to roll his eyes.

"It was very inconsiderate to barge in like that. You four gave us a real fright."

"We just were exploring - "

"Lie. Doesn't really matter though, don't you think Merlin?"

The older of the two brothers sighed heavily. He shook his head and petted the snake in his arms.

"Why don't you four just sit down somewhere and give us a proper apology. We can't come here anymore after this."

Sherlock looked at Merlin, confused and slightly alarmed. Merlin noticed.

"You see, Sherly, after I have seen this room's true form, I cannot return... It's just... I can't ignore the triteness of the place. We'll have to find someplace real."

Sherlock agreed with that, feeling a sting of melancholy. He turned his gaze back to the four Gryffindor specimens to calculate their actions.

Neville sat behind the other Gryffindors and felt like an outsider but then one of Sherlock's bees approached him. All of them watched the insect dance in front of Neville's throat. Merlin poked between Sherlock's ribs and at the cue the boy's eyes flashed with gold as he raised his palm with no hesitation.

"Béo, cume!"

The bee flies back to him and settles to his palm, nuzzling a bit and apparently falls asleep. Sherlock looked at Harry for a long time with strange, piercing look, the bee still on his palm.

* * *

"You are thinking of starting a fighting club of sorts", the young Slytherin blurted eventually, "and it's because of the woman, the _pink cataclysm_."

Four faces paled to his words, as they had believed their secret to be in safe.

"How do you know that? Who told you?" Harry asked furiously, already having and idea who could be their traitor. He was surprised to see Sherlock's effusively unimpressed look.

"My brain told me", the boy snarled, "you do realize that I'm a seer? That means that I. Can. _See_. Everything. "

Harry trembled. Sherlock's voice had dipped so low that he'd sounded like Snape for a second. The thing he'd said about seeing everything didn't help either - that was just about too close to Occlumency. It was like having a tea party with a reincarnation of their Potions professor.

Ron didn't fail to comment even now, when their peer had revealed his knowledge about their secret.

"How many fellow Slytherins did you tell?"

Sherlock snorted, with no real glee in his expression.

"And, do tell, why would I do that? I can't even sleep my nights in peace because of their terrorizing and you expect me to show loyalty to them? Ha! If anything, I would join the fight. Although I would like to give the old Tumble-Boor a revenge for taking us from our home."

Merlin laid his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and squashed it firmly.

"I think, brother mine, that giving revenge to professor _Dumbledore_ would just prevent us from returning to our old living."

"Yes, yes", the silver-eyed boy jeered at his brother's nagging, "I saw. No need to lecture about that!I saw it after the second the thought of revenge flashed in my mind. Don't worry, I'm on the side of the angels."

Hermione coughed politely and the two brothers turned their attention to her.

"As you probably already know about our purpose being here... Well, yes, we were looking for a place to practice. So... You'd like to join our organisation, then?"

Ron's face at Hermione's question was quite unforgettable, Merlin thought cheerfully.

"But, Slytherins", the redhead hissed, "they're Slytherins!"

Hermione smiles.

"Slytherin _and_ useful."


	6. The Forbidden weeps

**A/N: Lovely, I'm finally progressing with the plot (what, who said that a writer should know the plot before writing? Pffft) and I start writing the last chapters - sorry, you'll have to read plenty of chapters before da finale ;D**

* * *

Merlin felt almost pleased when he found the secret way to sneak to the Forbidden Forest. Almost, as in slightly disappointed - he had heard the scary stories about the place, but then again, where would he and Sherlock feel the Earth? There was no way to use the school yard or Sprout's greenhouses... They weren't so silent anymore; the weather had bullied them to finally use their shoes. Well... at least they didn't get so much strange looks anymore.

Getting some sort of sedative was really needed, as Sherlock had told that something inside him were itching restlessly, and good grief, only God knew what it meant...

'I should have noticed", Merlin blamed at himself, 'Sherly's magic already causes me to feel a brooding electricity in the air. I'm so bad at looking after him - all I'd have to do, is to let him to connect with bees.'

They were walking towards the Room of Requirement, now to learn some dueling skills, not to find easement for homesickness. As if Sherlock had heard Merlin's thoughts, the met his brother's eyes, sharp and poignant as ever.

"Stop blaming yourself. I'm not the only one in need of freedom. Don't you feel your own desire to connect with dragons?"

"Of course I do", Merlin answered, "but it doesn't really matter. A dragon so near the school... No, no. That would just disturb the Forest and cause panic among the people."

"Oh, Merlin, you have such a pixie brain! Are you sure that you are a Dragonlord? Is that so, that you really cannot draft a dragon hatchling to us? A mere baby that couldn't attract any attention?"

"... Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're an idiot," Sherlock scolded at his brother, but the effect was dampened by his smug smirking, which lead into a small tickle fight. Eventually they forced each others to sober down and being still slightly giggly, they readied themselves or the secret lessons and yanked the door open.

* * *

Harry watched proudly at the other students when several silvery animals were skipping in the air of the Room of Requirement. When he had learnt the spell few years ago, he was told that Patronuses were extremely advanced magic - and here they all were, shooting those same advanced spells around this room.

He glanced at the two and only Slytherins of DA, the two strange brothers who had started applying Hogwarts at their fifth year... Some members of DA were still a bit cautious about the two, including Ron, but Harry had to admit that they were quite alright, if you got past the green ties and cold eyes.

Hermione was right, they could be useful - from what he had seen, those two were pretty powerful and their magic was so different, that it could have a benefit of baffling the enemy, at least. They tried to use their wands even if they found it difficult, he noticed, but when they did magic, their eye color changed to gold. 'Better get used to that', he added in his thoughts.

"Ámundae mec wiþ atol!" Sherlock's voice echoed suddenly around the room. When Harry turned to look at him again, he saw a huge swarm of golden bees tear away from the young seer's torso. The bees truly started to lead a wild life above their heads - go around, dive down and soar up with unbelievable speed. Eventually they returned to Sherlock and absorbed back to his body through his skin.

"Whatever that was", Harry heard someone exclaim, "it was awesome! What _was_ it?"

Sherlock tilted his head little confused. He waved his wand a tad helplessly.

"I'm not entirely sure. It must have been some kind of an instinct... My Expecto Patronum didn't work at all."

"Yes, you are right, Sherlock. If I remember right", Merlin confirmed his brother's suspicions, "our father explained us several times that the spells we'll ever need, are extant in our knowledge even if we wouldn't _learn_ them... We just need to provoke the magic inside us and the right words will flow from our lips like a wild stream."

Harry listened to the explanation very interestedly - if that was the case with half-druids, could it apply to regular wizards too? He knew distantly the concept of instinctive magic, so maybe this was just one of those library things again. _Again_.

However, the constant stirrer, Zacharias Smith, had too an opinion about the situation at hand.

"Oh, this is just so _safe_, isn't it? Having a Slytherin using his abrasive, instinctive magic here with us. Very nice, we can lose our heads here, no need to fight any enemies at all!"

"Oh shut it, Smith", Merlin jeered loudly, "we aren't that powerful! We could probably cause a tiny scratch at your buttocks by accident, but there really isn't any danger to die at our hands."

"Are you quite sure of that? The thing he did was so freaky, I mean, didn't the bees just pop out of his body? If that was an instinct, what could you two do on _purpose_?"

Harry had of course thought that as well, but he had decided to trust everyone in this room, no matter their House or background. All that mattered in his mind, was their shared will to fight against the enemy.

"That's quite enough now, Smith", Harry said, "I trust them and their abilities to control their magic. I'm sure that they know the nature of their own powers and therefore you or anyone else shouldn't hypothesize about it. Is that clear?"

The room was quiet, waiting for the Hufflepuff's answer. After a long minute the sour-looking boy twitched his head, just enough it to be recognized as a nod.

* * *

'The real nightingales were so much better than the artificial ones', Merlin thought neutrally, 'but nothing can compete with the ones that one could find in Ealdor.' With a small sigh he raised his hands.

"Cradolcild sylfum eorðdracan, hlyste ond cume!"

The ground under them sighed and they knew - the dragons had heard their Master's call. A child of an earth-dragon was to approach them very soon, but they still had enough time for Sherlock to call for his bees.

Unceremoniously the boy raised his hands and the familiar tickle of magic flew from his veins to his fingertips.

"Mín drút mid fiðersliehtas, hlyste ond cume!"

After a while of anxious waiting, they both sat down and settled on a soft tuft of wet, vibrantly green moss. Merlin was cuddling a small dragon. Sherlock waved his hands in a very slow pace, his movement simultaneously followed by the honeybees, wasps and bumblebees.

This was their true world. Dragons and wasps, earth and forest. And yet they still couldn't feel entirely satisfied; not without their home. Not without their beloved mother. Not without their religion, the one that became rarer and rarer every year.

They knew from Sherlock's prediction that they could lose their home village at any moment and they wouldn't be there to help. They knew too, that the horrid woman, _Professor_ Umbridge, was the swirling tornado that was to destroy Hogwarts, the 'only sanctuary in this country'. To be honest, she was doing her work of destruction very thoroughly.

The young Beelord kept his tears hidden, but the Lord of Dragons was almost screaming, so pained were his sobs. They all were huddled together as a smooth lump of hair, wings and arms, expressing their sorrow for the hopeless situation. The Forest bent upon them and sung a song with its rustling leaves and twigs, offering the only solace the two brothers and their winged soul mates would accept.

* * *

** A/N 2: So, you remember, Sherlock has given two predictions. To jog your memory, here they are:**

1# "The shattered one will once again come back to life. O behold! The green lights will shine upon the scorching ruins and shrinking rivers - finally at the end of all things, there will no longer be place called Ealdor."

2# "Hark! The forgotten ideas are walking in the darkness and the pink hazard will swirl like an everlasting tornado through the one and only sanctuary in this country. Do our gods hear at all, how we cry out in pain? The quiet room will be listening, but who will save the living?"


	7. The Effect of Confining

**A/N: Hi there, reader! I've been a lazy writer... but on the good effect I became a perfect student, doing the 24/7 cramming and all. Now I have summer holidays and it's time to do my story-writing magic. **

* * *

Christmas was coming - it wasn't called that in Ealdor, but the celebrating was quite similar in some aspects. Mostly the eating part. Merlin had written so many letters to their mother, that he was surprised that his fingers weren't constantly blue with ink-stains any way. Sherlock had been lurking in the library more often than before, but what would be nicer than sit together in candlelight, while Merlin wrote the letters and Sherlock read the thick, forgotten books?

"Hey! You two, what are you doing here?" Ah, Ron Weasley. Always so suspectful.

"I'm studying", Sherlock's bored voice answered, "and Merlin writes a letter. To our mother."

Hermione sat next to Merlin and tried to see Sherlock's book better.

"What is that book about, I've never seen that one before?"

Nosy ones, the Gryffindors. Why was it always the Gryffindors? Sherlock lifted the book so the girl could see its cover. _Encyclopedia Anthophilae - Bees, Bumblebees and Magical Bees of the World_

"Bees? What subject are you studying about them for?" Nosy Gryffindor.

"None," Sherlock answers, feeling slightly frustrated already.

"But... you said you were studying." Annoying, nosy Gryffindor.

"For myself."

Harry could sense the irritation radiate from the Slytherin boy. The candlelight seemed to change color from homey orange to cold gold, but that probably was just his own imagination. However, he decided to change the subject, to prevent all incidents possible.

"Hermione, I thought we were in hurry?"

"Oh! We are, actually. Well, it was nice to chat with you two! We'd better go now..."

Merlin raised his gaze from the letter and nodded politely at the trio, but the second they disappeared from his sight, he made a face.

"Were they here for a long time?

Sherlock snorted.

* * *

Merlin's letters came always a day late, but still, that was a lot faster than delivered by owls. No, her sons used dragons to deliver their mail... Well, Sherlock had tried to use bees, but they were too tiny to carry parchments. Hunith smiled at the thought of her two sons - special, unique ones - as she opened the letter that had just landed on her lap.

_Dear Mother,_

_we miss you and our village terribly, but we need to learn the things this place could possibly give us to learn. We have seen the Forest and sought for comfort in her arms. _

_Sherlock's magic already forms small, shadowy barrages - perhaps he's learning to control his powers? I, on the other hand, feel like my magic is forming something like a... like a dollop inside me, ready to burst like the fireworks we saw in Essetir. _

_I hope this is temporary. _

_Tell me, how things are in there, and as usual, tell if you need to get something when we come home for summer. We have already bought all the things you have asked for._

_~Merlin_

_~Sherlock _

* * *

The Room of Requirement was full, and the practice was going well. Even Neville Longbottom was progressing and Harry beamed at his... his _class_. Students from all Houses ready to fight if it ever came to that. It was a small miracle, to have even Slytherins with them, but when he heard the two brothers talk to each other, he was just happy they were in same side.

Some of the group weren't so happy about Merlin and Sherlock's presence, but as Hermione had explained, they could prove themselves useful.

* * *

"This is becoming almost a tradition", the Weasley boy huffed sarcastically as they watched golden-eyed Sherlock slouch in the corner. Merlin hissed at the red-headed boy and turned back to his brother, trying to loose his tie and make him more comfortable.

"Sherly, if you can hear me... Please, let it flow. As soon as the prediction comes out of you, you'll wake up," he pleaded in language he thought to be English, but later was told to be like... dragon noices and Merlin shivered slightly. Was he becoming a _dragon_ of all things?

Sherlock, at the moment, didn't seem to hear anything, but his eyes flicked back and forth as if he was dreaming. His mouth opened slowly and everyone came closer to hear his words.

"Oh, how it burns my ribs and how it bends my soul! Let this be my final throe. Please, send me your green fire and let me become a relic in my marble casket."

The whole room was quiet and Merlin felt awful - was his brother speaking of himself or someone else - but Sherlock didn't wake up; no, his eyes were still of golden hue and they all saw that there was an another divination coming to public.

"You, who have crowned yourselves as samildánachs think you know everything of all things - fine, fine - answer, why does this man bleed in death? Let the true seer syllabify the verity for your ears; he is attacked by a hell-forged shape of a man who dresses in a snake-skin and speaks the language of the green."

There was two pearly shadows hovering upon Sherlock's body, ready to disappear to the thin air, but the boy's curly locks were damp with sweat and his already pale skin was now almost yellow. His brother was very scared - actually, to be honest, Merlin was in panic. Was Sherlock dying? Why was he dying? What would their mother say? Suddenly he felt two pairs of comforting hands around him and he saw that they were walking in a corridor, to the Hospital Wing.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, there is a reason to give this many predictions, and yes, they all are important. Let's gather them all in here.**

1# "The shattered one will once again come back to life. O behold! The green lights will shine upon the scorching ruins and shrinking rivers - finally at the end of all things, there will no longer be place called Ealdor."

2# "Hark! The forgotten ideas are walking in the darkness and the pink hazard will swirl like an everlasting tornado through the one and only sanctuary in this country. Do our gods hear at all, how we cry out in pain? The quiet room will be listening, but who will save the living?"

3# "Oh, how it burns my ribs and how it bends my soul! Let this be my final throe. Please, send me your green fire and let me become a relic in my marble casket."

4# "You, who have crowned yourselves as samildánachs think you know everything of all things - fine, fine - answer, why does this man bleed in death? Let the true seer syllabify the verity for your ears; he is attacked by a hell-forged shape of a man who dresses in a snake skin and speaks the language of the green."


End file.
